


The Tenant of Shibden Hall

by aimeewrites



Category: Gentleman Jack (TV), Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:54:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26126068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimeewrites/pseuds/aimeewrites
Summary: In need of distraction, Janeway launches a new programme in the holodeck - 19th century Britain , her favourite period.
Relationships: Kathryn Janeway/Anne Lister
Comments: 26
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

Maybe the fifth cup of coffee had been too much. Or maybe it was just the usual daily grind finally getting to her. Whatever it was, Janeway found it impossible to relax. Even after having been shooed off the bridge by Chakotay after an eight-hour shift. Even after a too-rare real water shower. The last days had only offered engineering glitches, warp core trouble and other petty annoyances. Throwing the novel she was trying to read across the sofa in annoyance, Janeway stood up, stretched and seized her pad. Even though they weren’t privy to the latest Alpha Quadrant holonovels, she could probably find at least one programme she hadn’t tried yet.

After checking the availability of the holodecks – surprisingly enough, at 1am, her crew seemed to prefer sleep – she went to her wardrobe and selected what she thought was an appropriate outfit for the holonovel she had selected, The Tenant of Shibden Hall. She would be Kathryn O’Donnell, a young woman from an upper-middle class family left nearly penniless after her father’s death, who had been offered a position as lady companion to a spinster living with elderly relatives in Yorshire. A few minutes later, she was striding towards holodeck 2.

Shibden Hall was probably a very pretty house, but in the pouring rain on a November evening, it looked as bedraggled as she felt. Kathryn was standing in the courtyard, eyeing the heavy brass knocker on the wooden door when she heard loud footsteps behind her. A tall, masculine figure strode past her and pushed the door open.

“Cordingley! Where are you? Lower Beck has flooded and I got wet up to my knees; stock up the fire in the drawing room! I am going to change. Is dinner ready?”

A stocky woman wearing an apron appeared: “Yes, Ma’am.” Seeing Kathryn appear in the doorframe, the servant’s eyes widened: “Oh, Ma’am – there’s someone at the door.”

“Well, ask him what he wants! And then come and tell me!” And the tall figure vanished down the hall.

Kathryn only had time to register that the person who had addressed the servant so peremptorily and who she had spotted in the courtyard was not, in fact, a man, but a woman, when the older woman in the apron turned towards her: “Come in, come in – where you expected?”

“Err – I think so. My name is Kathryn O’Donnell – I’m a… Lady’s companion. I think Miss Lister is expecting me?”

“Goodness! Well, she hasn’t said anything to me, but she’s just recently come back from Paris, so… Come and dry yourself by the fire. I’ll go and tell her you’re here.”

A few minutes later, the servant reappeared: “Miss Lister says you’re indeed expected, but she had no idea exactly when you were coming. I’ll show you to your room and then she’ll see you in the drawing room.”

Kathryn let herself be led to a small bedroom where a large four-poster bed took up most of the space. She gratefully divested herself of her soaked hat and ran a hand through her hair, trying to tidy it as best as she could. Then she went in search of the drawing-room.

The tall woman was looking out of the window and turned when Kathryn entered the room. Her new employer was almost a head taller than she was, and wearing clothes she would not have thought usual for an early 19th century lady – high leather boots, a long black skirt, a white shirt partially hidden under a black waistcoat and a cravat. Dark eyes scrutinised her in silence. This inspection felt worst than being called to account by a panel of admirals. Then the woman spoke:

“So you’re Miss O’Donnell. I’m Miss Lister – you came highly recommended by Lady Stuart, and I sincerely hope you shall live up to her expectations – and mine. She knows my needs well – I was looking for a respectable, reasonably intelligent and well-educated companion to accompany me on my travels. Someone who knows how to behave in society and whom I shall not be ashamed to be seen with. I was not impressed by the fact you are Irish, but I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Do you think you are that person?”

Kathryn bristled: “I’m usually considered intelligent enough…” She paused just a second before adding a “Ma’am” which seemed expected. “And I consider myself respectable.”

“Can you speak any languages? French, German? Read Latin or Greek?”

“Well…” With the school her traditionalist parents had chosen for her and Phoebe, Janeway could speak a little of 20th century French and German – those languages hadn’t been used for more than a century on Earth – everyone spoke English. As for Greek, she had learnt the alphabet, as all scientists did, and chromolinguistics might help too, but…

“A little”, she compromised.

“Play music?”

“Emm – no, I can’t.”

Miss Lister’s mouth set into a disapproving line.

“Well, we shall see. Dinner should be served – I’ll introduce you to the rest of my family.”

And the tall brunette left the room, leaving Kathryn to follow in her wake.

At the dinner table, Kathryn once again felt like a lab specimen under scrutiny, although the elderly relatives introduced as Miss Lister senior and Mr Lister looked kindly upon her. As the meal went on, she listened with a ear to the conversation – mostly her new employer disserting at length about crops, tree planting and other agricultural matters – and watched the woman covertly. Miss Lister exuded an air of quiet dominance and, Kathryn had to admit, cut a very handsome figure. Somehow, though, she though she wasn’t welcome. Or maybe she had already been found wanting. Whatever it was, she had no intention of letting that first impression linger. She would find the way of impressing the woman. Whatever it took.

_2th of November, 1831_

_My new companion arrived today. Lady S insisted – said it was most unsuitable for me to travel only with a maid. Not much impressed by her, but shall have to give her time to get accustomed to my ways. A little vulgar, with not much spirit or wits, but pretty enough. Maybe I can model her to my wishes._


	2. Chapter 2

When Janeway got back to her quarters around 0300, she fell into an exhausted sleep, from which her alarm woke her all too soon four hours later. Like the previous days, problems kept her busy all day and she found herself having to reprimand B’Elanna for losing her temper, while she herself felt hers was hanging on by a very frayed thread. After having snapped at Harry Kim for a too vague reading and at Tom Paris for not immediately paying attention to a command, she knew she wasn’t fit to remain on the bridge. When she got back to her quarters, she discovered that the breakdowns affecting the engine room had extended to her replicator. After trying twice to order coffee and getting something tasting like mulch, she decided to take it apart. Half an hour later, she was even more rattled and had her hands covered in machine grease. Groaning, she gave up in disgust, paged B’Elanna, asking her to send someone to finish the job and went to select a dress in her wardrobe.

“Ah – there you are- I have been waiting. We are going to Halifax today. I need to place an order at Blakes & Weston.”

Well, her new employer didn’t seem any better disposed towards her today. For a brief moment, Kathryn wondered why she submitted to being treated like a first-year cadet by a holodeck character, before deciding she wanted to see where the programme was taking her.

“An order, Ma’am?” she asked as deferentially as possible. “And I apologise for being late. It won’t happen again.”

“I shall explain on the way. Come on.”

Anne Lister seized a top hat laying on an armchair and strode out of the door, starting to walk at a punishing pace. This was worse than a velocity game, thought Kathryn as she tried her best to follow on the uneven path through the Yorshire dales. The scenery was splendid, but she discovered she had better concentrate where she stepped, as rocks and potholes conspired to make her trip. She needed most of her breath to keep up, too, but that did not apply to her companion.

“We are going first to the bookstore to pick up my order of the new edition of Lord Byron’s works, and then to Blakes & Weston.”

“If I could always read, I should never feel the want of company,” quoted Kathryn softly.

A smile illuminated Anne Lister’s smile and once again Kathryn thought that the woman was really extraordinarily handsome. Especially when she wasn’t scowling at her.

“You are acquainted with the works of Lord Byron, Miss O’Donnell?”

“He’s my favourite poet”, replied Kathryn, in her mind thanking the former lover who had given her a volume of Byron’s poems.

“He is a favourite of mine too – I am glad we have that in common. I have ordered a gilt-tooled morocco bound copy from Wells’.

“So that’s the order you need to pick up? I thought you’d said another name…”

“No – that is just the first errand – I also need to pick up an order of two scalpels, one small knife and a lancet at Blakes & Weston.”

Kathryn frowned – as far as she knew, those were old surgery instruments.

“I wish to continue my studies in anatomy – I managed to attend several autopsies in Paris and Mr Julliart was kind enough to help me perform some myself. Legs, arms, a head… I even dissected a baby once…”

“What?” 

“Oh – it was dead, of course – I would not have done it on a live one. Well – of course you know that. It was very tiny but amazingly well-formed. The mothers who cannot afford to bury their children usually sell the corpses, you know. Especially those who find themselves in a delicate condition without a husband. It was fascinating – one could see everything- we separated the flesh from the bones, using the finest bistoury available, and then we examined the interior of the skull in the most precise details: the arteries – the supraorbital artery and the trochlear artery – and the trigeminal nerve . The brain is the most interesting thing, do you know, Miss O’Donnell? It looks like a messy mass of knotted matter and yet is the source of it all … Good Lord! I have shocked you, Miss O’Donnell.”

Kathryn’s face had turned a delicate shade of green and she was staring at Anne Lister with bulging eyes. It was one thing to go into war zones as she had done when she was a lieutenant, and she had seen her share of bodies, but…

“Are you all right? Here, sit down on this wall for a little while.”

As her new employer put an arm round her shoulder to help her sit down, Kathryn felt ashamed of her sudden weakness. The woman looked truly worried. Kathryn straightened up, adopted her finest captain stance and hastened to reassure her: “I’m fine – I was just – startled – and a little out of breath.”

“All right. I am sorry if you found my description distressing. I find human anatomy of particular interest. Seeing things from the inside… Seeing how a body is built…”

“I agree. I’m fine now – we can go on.”

The rest of the conversation was more sedate – Anne Lister pointed out some of her tenants’ farms and various picturesque landmarks. After they had visited the two stores, they walked back to Shibden Hall, Kathryn having decided that this holonovel would be her workout as well.

After a dinner of partridge with swedes and carrots and suet pudding as a sweet, both women settled in the drawing room. Miss Lister stated clearly that she wanted some time on her own and Kathryn decided she might as well enjoy the lull. Being allowed to borrow a book from her employer’s extensive collection, she browsed the shelves with delight and settled with a book of travels. Only a sharp intake of breath from her employer, followed by the crumpling of paper and a small object flying through the room, not far from her head, disturbed her concentration. Raising her head to look for the object, she saw Anne Lister bowed over the desk, head in her hands. Kathryn finally located the object and shivered – it was a sharp letter-opener that had come not two inches from her head. As she rose and went to give it back, she thought she heard the other woman crying, but before she had time to inquire, Anne stood up and stalked out of the room, the crumpled sheet in her hand.

Kathryn did not hesitate for very long before following her. She had never been able to bear anyone crying without going to comfort them. Her mother had told her than even when she was a toddler, she used to bring her own teddy bear to other little tots in distress to try and make things better. She knocked on the bedroom door and when she got no answer, pushed it open.

“Go away!”

That was an order Kathryn had no intention to obey. She went to the other woman who was slumped in an armchair and obviously trying unsuccessfully to hide her tears, and knelt beside her, putting a hand on her arm. Since she did not get shooed away, she stayed like that for a few minutes in silence. Then she said softly: “Let me help. I can see something happened – did you get some bad news?”

Anne Lister replied in a ragged voice: “She’s getting married – my – my friend Vere is getting married. To that Cameron! She was mine! And I’ve lost her – I’ve lost her.” Then she started crying again and Kathryn stood up to put her arms around her shoulders. She did not know enough to offer more than silent sympathy, but the fact it was not rejected made her strangely happy.

_3th of November, 1831_

_A terrible day. Vere married – I knew it would happen, but had had no idea it would so soon. If she can be content with Donald Cameron, I suppose she would not have done for me, but how I shall mourn her. She invited me to the wedding…_

_Went to Halifax this morning with Miss O. Shocked her by talking about dead baby etc. But she knows a little poetry & her manners rather pleasing, though she had dirty nails & her gown sleeves were too wide & her endurance not like it should. I wonder if she is a little afraid of me. She comforted me tonight, though & did not comment on my outburst. I own she is pretty enough. I shall not tell her, of course. _


	3. Chapter 3

During the next few days, real life reasserted its rights and Janeway had little time to spare. They had found a M-class planet to replenish their rapidly-dwindling supplies of food and fuel, but the negotiations had been excruciatingly slow. The planet inhabitants, the Telomere, had been friendly enough but they had so many customs and rituals that the smallest transaction took ages. Janeway was exhausted by the whole process and found maintaining a diplomatic smile a challenge. While she politely listened to lengthy orations and watched spectacles in her honour, she found her thoughts wandering to the holodeck. More precisely, to a small manor house in Yorshire and its odd inhabitant. Usually, what happened in the holodeck stayed in the holodeck – unless, of course, the characters escaped and tried to kill her with a sharp knife…The tenant of Shibden Hall, though, remained in her mind. She had read several 19th century novels, some from an author named Jane Austen, others by Dickens, other by another author named Elizabeth Gaskell, but somehow Miss Lister looked and seemed very different from the usual Georgian heroines. Stronger. Not the type to simper and gossip around a cup of tea, or faint to catch the eye of a potential suitor. Of course, the fainting could be due to those uncomfortable corsets – the ones she had replicated for herself were as authentic as possible, and therefore she had an idea of how constricting they were and how painful an ill-placed stay could be. Somehow, though, she liked the feeling of being constrained… After all, their uniforms weren’t that comfortable either. Although much more convenient than a full gown when one had to tinker in engineering… Finally, after a full week of missions, she found herself on the way to holodeck 2, booted, corseted and ready for the misty Yorshire dales and their enigmatic mistress.

When Kathryn arrived at Shibden Hall, it was mid-morning and as she went into the kitchen, she was immediately offered a cup of tea by Cordingley. Accepting gratefully, she then took the tray with two cups and a teapot to Anne Lister’s bedroom. Would she be welcomed ? Taken to task for having dared to comfort someone who was her employer and therefore not her social equal? Kathryn wasn’t used to not being in charge and to have to behave as a subordinate was wholly out of character for her.

She found Anne Lister at her desk, scribbling what appeared to be calculations on a notebook. Since Anne did not pay any attention to her, Kathryn cleared a little spare space to put a teacup on the desk and looked at the books spread open. Equations! Now, that was something she could relate to, even though she wondered at that unusual occupation. Ever since she was a child, she had been interested in numbers. Probably because when her father was home, he liked to set her little mathematic riddles to solve, and all she wanted was to please him. Numbers were something she shared with him, something her sister had no interest in. Their little secret. A little later, she had found solace in numbers – because numbers didn’t lie. Numbers were… They offered precision, accuracy, and therefore security. And they made sense. Too much in the world didn’t make sense – emotions. Feelings. Love… Numbers were black or white. No grey areas.

From what Kathryn could see, Anne was trying to work out a quadratic equation using Lagrange’s theory, something they had studied at the Academy as a prelude to mathematical physics and astrophysics, but she seemed stuck. She scanned the page, and after a few seconds to get used to Anne’s spidery writing, quickly found the error.

“This should be a minus sign, not a plus – that’s where you made a mistake,” stated Kathryn, pointing at the offending sign.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You forgot to change the sign here, and therefore, this one should be a minus.”

Anne frowned and re-read her notes, then looked up to Kathryn with new respect in her eyes.

“Good Lord! You are right. How extraordinary – this is… Quite advanced. You are most observant – and apparently a good algebraist as well. How did you learn?”

“My father,” replied Kathryn – she couldn’t very well say she had been educated at one of the best private universities in America… “He was – a scientist, and fancied himself an inventor and… An astronomer. I don’t have any brothers, so – he taught me instead.”

“How wonderful. I decided several years ago to become reasonably proficient in languages as well as mathematics, which were unfortunately very little taught at my school. I cannot tolerate the idea that women should be barred from knowledge due to a supposed weakness of mind and body, when I know several men who would no more know what to do with a book than a cow with a telescope. I have the bases of algebra and arithmetic but would like to improve my knowledge of the extraction of square and cube roots. I have also started mechanics. I am glad you share my interest for such pursuits, Miss O’Donnell.”

They sipped their tea in silence for a moment, until Anne closed her book and said: “My sister Marian is coming back from Market Weighton today – she went to stay with friends. Do you have sisters, Miss O’Donnell ?”

“One – her name is Phoebe.”

“Is she a mathematician like you?”

“Oh no – she’s…An artist – she likes drawing and painting more than anything.”

“To each one’s own – do you miss her?”

“I do – since my father’s death, my mother, my sister and I have been… Closer. I’ve always been more my father’s daughter but… Yes, I miss them.”

And to her utter horror, Kathryn felt tears roll down her cheeks. This time, she was not the comforter but the comfortee… And she couldn’t help thinking how very well she fitted in Anne’s arms, how she enjoyed the sensation of long fingers stroking her cheek and how soothing it was to have soft lips kiss her brow…

“I understand,” murmured Anne. “I was never close to my mother and you can see that my father and I are not kindred spirits, but my aunt has been like a mother to me and I worry about her when I am away. Were it not for some thirst in my soul can be quenched only by travelling and going away, I would not leave her. I sometimes feel guilty, for she and my uncle James have given me so much and I am maybe not as dutiful as I should in return.”

“You’re an explorer, Miss Lister – you shouldn’t feel guilty about wanting to discover new horizons – that’s what life is all about. Meeting new people, seeing new things…”

“So you enjoy that too? Being far from home?”

“I do – usually. But sometimes…”

And for a brief moment the reality of Voyager’s situation intruded in Janeway’s hololife and all the guilt she felt about having stranded her ship and her crew in the Delta Quadrant almost made her cry again.

“Sometimes, being away for too long makes you long for home…”

“Yes – exactly.”

Anne stood up and smiled at Kathryn: “I shall endeavour to make you see Yorshire as your home, Miss O’Donnell. Why don’t you go and get your coat – the wind is quite cold today and although I am far from nesh, I do not know about you and wouldn’t want you to catch a chill. I have to go and see one of my tenants about a cow.”

_4th of November, 1831_

_There is more to Miss O’Donnell than meet the eyes & I gather that by & by I shall get used to her being here. I made myself agreeable & was particularly civil to her, for I find I cannot treat her like a servant, though she is supposed to be my companion. As we walked back from the Trudwells, offered her my arm & talked about Paris, where she has never been. Would much rather while away the time in her company than on my own & may even flirt a little. Who knows…_

__


	4. Chapter 4

As she came out of sickbay, Janeway stopped, leant against the wall and took several deep gulps of air. What she had just done had stopped her from taking more than shallow breaths, and coming so soon after Quinn’s suicide, it was just too much. She should have realised the Doctor would refuse to inject Tuvix, leaving her with the responsibility of the “termination”.

Whenever Chakotay told her she wasn’t alone, she had her crew and himself to help her, she always had the same thought – he doesn’t understand. She was the only captain, the only responsible party. Of course, she much preferred hearing “Aye, Captain” than saying “Yes, Sir”, but the burden of command weighted heavily on her conscience and her shoulders. She was the only one who could take the harder decisions, and this time, it had involved killing a man- the hardest decision of all. This was not why she had joined Starfleet, nor why she had pursued command. She was first and foremost a scientist, not a warrior, and although she never hesitated when it came to defend her vessel against alien attacks, taking a life in cold blood did not sit easily on her conscience.

As Janeway made her way to the holodeck, she felt heavier than usual, and it had nothing to do with the two petticoats underlying her dress. She was wearing severe black – mourning black, in fact – it suited her mood. When she arrived at Shibden Hall, she noticed the weather, too, suited her mood – the dark and stormy night of gothic novels … The temperature had dropped several degrees from the last time she was there, too, and she shivered despite the thick fabric of her dress.

As she went inside, she found Anne Lister and her aunt sitting around the fire in the drawing room, in deep conversation, Anne’s father dozing in an armchair in a corner. The cosy tableau reminded Kathryn so much of her holidays at her grand-parents when she was a child that she felt a deep pang of homesickness which did nothing to alleviate her sombre mood.

The conversation stopped as she came closer and both Anne senior and Anne junior smiled at her.

“Come here, child, by the fire – you look frozen to the core.”

Just like her grand-mother when she came back from one of her great adventures – when aged seven she had decided to camp all alone in the garden, and had come back inside around midnight, when a storm had started and the wind had blown away her makeshift sheet tent. Or when she had “borrowed” a canoe and almost drowned.

Kathryn obeyed and went to sit on the sofa near Anne.

“Whatever possessed you to get out in such weather?” asked the latter, almost sharply.

“Hmm – I just… Needed some fresh air.”

“Well, please don’t do it again. We were worried about you. I was worried about you.”

Anne extended her arm on the back on the sofa behind Kathryn, touching her shoulder lightly, and Kathryn suddenly felt a little lighter – the tone was sharp, but the words were caring, and the touch soothing.

Anne took up a book laying on a nearby table and started reading aloud. Kathryn soon realised that she had read the novel and that it hit a little too close to home… When Anne read : “The innocent and helpless creature bestowed on them by heaven, whom to bring up to good, and whose future lot it was in their hands to direct to happiness or misery, according as they fulfilled their duties towards me”, Kathryn squirmed uncomfortably. After about a chapter, Aunt Anne rose and retired for the night and Anne’s father followed suit, leaving the two younger women alone. Anne laid the book back on the table and looked at Kathryn thoughtfully.

“You seem restless tonight, my dear – and rather morose. Is anything the matter?”

“Oh, I killed a man today” didn’t see like an appropriate answer, somehow. Instead, Kathryn murmured: “No, not really. I was just thinking… That book… They are all so very lonely – Victor Frankenstein…The Creature… It… resonates in me. On many levels.”

“You have read it then? I have too, but my aunt wanted to, and since her eyesight is failing her… It does indeed speak to the soul, and although I am not much of a novel reader, this one certainly helps on reflect on… On life, I suppose, and death…And… Isolation. I already told you that I found the science of anatomy fascinating, for it gives one knowledge of the mechanisms of life as well as of the mysteries of death. So did Dr. Frankenstein.”

“Indeed. Have you got a Creature hidden in your attic, Miss Lister?”

“I have not – I do, however, have a skeleton in a cupboard in my Parisian pied-à-terre…”

Kathryn stared at Anne wonderingly. She wanted to confide in her, to tell her about Tuvix…To tell her about the hard choices she had to face, alone, almost every day. To tell her about her own feeling of loneliness.

Anne went on: “Loneliness can be a terrible thing, especially when one is unhappy in one’s own company. Sometimes I crave time alone, but the idea of spending my life without a kindred spirit is daunting and I cannot resolve myself to considering it.”

“You shouldn’t, Miss Lister – there is no need for you to remain alone.”

“Some would say otherwise. One of my dearest friends told me she thought I was natural, but that nature was in an odd freak when she had made me. And I am, indeed, an oddity, just as much as Victor Frankenstein or his daemon. For many who find my company pleasing, many wish I would stay well away.”

“In a way, Miss Lister, we are all oddities, don’t you think? some products of culture more than of nature, some more attuned to the ways of the world, some more alienated. Some of us are forced to live in isolation by circumstances, and… Some, living in a crowd, can find themselves lonely. We can seek to understand other cultures…Other worlds – seek to make contact, and that is the best remedy against ignorance and prejudice.”

“True, indeed, although I fear some prejudices are too deeply rooted. Or…Maybe I am too different…”

“Difference is what makes us interesting, Miss Lister.”

“You may be right, Miss O’Donnell. And…Look at us- even though we are from different worlds, we seem to go on uncommonly well.”

“We may be from different worlds, but it doesn’t mean we can’t care for each other, Miss Lister.”

Anne smiled and taking Kathryn’s hand in hers, she kissed it gently. Kathryn stared into the tall woman’s eyes and could only find kindness and empathy in their deep darkness. Seeing that Kathryn did not protest, Anne drew her closer and kissed her wrist. Kathryn let herself melt in Anne’s arms – it felt so good to be held, and she had been starved of human contact for so long that she did not even wonder at the embrace. And when the soft lips commandeered hers, there was no hesitation in her response.

“Bridge to Captain Janeway – please come to the bridge, Captain.”

Janeway groaned: “Computer, freeze program – what is it, Mr. Kim?”

“It’s a nebula, Ma’am, but with unusual characteristics – its spectral line radiation is caesium based.”

Janeway stifled another groan and replied sharply : “On my way, Mr. Kim.”

_16th of November, 1831_

_Had sworn to myself I would only indulge in a little pleasant flirting, but Miss O.’s has stirred feelings in me that I can scarcely resist. Did not tell her much about myself but fancy our views on the world are not so dissimilar as one would think. Did not expand on my oddity – not liking men, preferring women, nature having played a giddy trick on me but when I kissed her she did not seem repulsed in any way. She has no fortune or name but could she suit me? Could ours be a marriage of souls?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started this chapter, I knew I wanted them to have Frankenstein in common ; I also knew it had been published at the right time, but I'd forgotten that it was one of the books Anne had brought to Hastings (cf Gentleman Jack, by Anne Choma)


	5. Chapter 5

Janeway fell wearily on her recliner in her quarters and tried to relax her back. Since she had been called to the bridge from the holodeck three days before, she felt like a month had passed. The nebula itself had proven to be an interesting phenomenon to observe, and she had almost – almost – accepted it had been worth the interruption of her virtual trip to Yorshire. And when she had finished indulging her scientific curiosity, the ship had been attacked by the Kazon. At first, the attacks hadn’t caused serious damage, although the starboard ventral had been hit each time, complicating repairs on the secondary command processors. However, when they had been beset by eight ships, and their plan to fool them with holo-images of rescue ships had failed, the situation had very quickly worsened. When Voyager had been boarded, Janeway had attempted to launch the self-destruct sequence, but to no avail. She had also tried to plead for the safety of her crew, offering herself in their place, but they had finally all been dumped by the Kazons on an unknown planet. It seemed a miracle that she had her ship back with only one casualty, but then again, their survival in the Delta Quadrant was nothing short of miraculous. If they ever got back home, she might even try going to church, something she hadn’t done since she was a little girl.

Now, faced with a whole night of free time, with coffee in her hand, she finally had time to process what had happened in the holodeck. The truth was that it had unsettled her. Even if she omitted the fact that she might be falling for a holodeck character – who had actually been alive several centuries before her own – Janeway had never thought she was attracted to women. It wasn’t like she had had a lot of time for romance. After her relationship with her first boyfriend, Cheb, the captain of the football team, had ended so disastrously, she had decided she had no time for romantic entanglements if she wanted to succeed in Starfleet. Therefore, she had concentrated on her studies, until as an ensign on the Icarus she had met Justin Tighe… If he hadn’t died an untimely death in the shuttle crash which had deprived her of both her father and her fiancée, she might have been married with children by now. And then, there had been Mark – Mark, whose picture had accompanied her for more than a year in her quarters, before she had decided it was more painful than comforting – a reminder of what might have been.

None of those relationships had brought her exactly what she’d been looking for. Love, of course, but also…A sense of safety, of security, an inviolable faith in the other, a fulfilment, a common passion for adventure and discovery. She might have found that with Mark, maybe, but, somehow, she didn’t think so. He was just familiar and comforting. Like an old slipper, she thought guiltily. What she had felt in the house nestled in the Yorshire dales had been different. That kiss had awaken emotions she hadn’t thought she possessed. And she wanted more. Janeway jumped to her feet, gulped the last dregs of her now cold coffee and went to selected a dress.

Looking at the hall clock when she arrived at Shibden, she saw it was past nine o’clock. Although the servants were still chatting in muffled tones in the kitchen, the others downstairs rooms were in darkness. Kathryn made her way upstairs and knocked at Anne’s door. She found her at her desk, writing in a thick notebook.

“Penning a novel?”, she asked, going into the room.

Anne quickly looked up and Kathryn was surprised to see she was blushing.

“No”, answered Anne quietly. “Not a novel. Just… My journal. It helps me unburden my soul and brings me comfort. I report the events of my day and reflect upon them.”

“I understand. I keep one too,” replied Kathryn, thinking of her logs, both her captain’s log and her personal one. “Do you ever censure yourself in them?” she went on, thinking of everything she omitted even in her personal log, for fear it would be read by others. Like when at the very beginning of their odyssey, she had been beset by self-doubt. Or her feelings of isolation. Or her doubts about whether they would ever get home. 

Anne’s face darkened a little: “I have devised a way to ensure my private thoughts will remain my own, and so I can confide my most private affairs in it, but… I think I would rather burn them than have other people read them.”

Kathryn nodded. 

Anne murmured: “If I did not have my journal, I fear I would go mad. The onus of responsibility for others is such that if I did not allow myself one space where I can be completely myself, completely human, with my weaknesses and my flaws, my mind would no doubt crumble. When my uncle left me Shibden, he knew I would be equal to the task, but it can be a heavy burden sometimes. Not the house itself, but the tenants…My family…”

Kathryn came closer, wanting to comfort the other woman, to tell her that she, of all people, understood her plight, and gasped. The faint candlelight had masked the red scar running along Anne’s temple and the mottled green-blue skin around her eye.

“What happened, Anne?”

Kathryn had forgotten protocol – she would call an injured crewman by his first name, and this woman had come to mean much more to her than a member of her crew. She waited for the reprimand, for an outburst of temper, but instead, Anne sighed.

“I was attacked by a thug. I told you I had enemies – well, this man had obviously been paid by one of them to frighten me. But I am all right. I’m always all right.”

Kathryn reached out and caressed the scar with her finger. “I’m so sorry.” She understood that attitude – never show weakness. Never flinch. It usually meant the hurt ran deep inside, and if you allowed a small crack to show, then everything would come tumbling out, and your whole shell would split open, leaving you small, defenceless and exposed.

Anne cleared her throat: “Hemingway forgot to stock the fire in your room today, Kathryn – I fear it will be very cold. Why don’t you sleep here?”

Kathryn. Her slip of the tongue had been forgiven and accepted as a token of intimacy, then. She hesitated just a second before nodding her acceptance. Anne stood up and murmured: “May I help you undress?” Another tiny nod, and Anne’s fingers lightly brushed against Kathryn’s neck. Then the fingers moved to the tiny buttons in the front of her green dress, lingered and wandered on her breasts, taking the unbuttoning at a leisurely pace. The skirt was unhooked by the same deft fingers, and the dress taken off her, leaving her standing there in her chemise, corset, petticoats and stockings. Anne knelt down and reached under the petticoats, her mouth tracing the trail of the stockings, fingers following to take them off. They fell on the floor, the petticoats following suit. By then, Kathryn could feel the moisture between her legs, wanted nothing more than to tear off the corset and throw herself on the bed. But she had to endure a few more excruciating minutes of patience as Anne undid the long set of laces in her back, freeing her from the last constraint, leaving her standing in a long, white shift which Anne reverently took off too, leaving Kathryn naked.

“You are beautiful,” murmured Anne as she pressed kisses on Kathryn’s shoulders and guided her to the bed. In unison with Kathryn’s mute desire, she did not make her wait and fully clothed, Anne found her way to Kathryn’s centre and Kathryn abandoned all control and yielded to her body as they met and merged in unison.

_26th of November, 1831_

_A very good kiss last night. Kathryn did not demur. I grubbled her & kissed her with my tongue in her mouth & she got very moist. I believe she was tolerably satisfied. She showed all due inclination & did not question my oddity or my intentions. Are my thoughts serious towards her? I do not know at present but I believe I could commit to her gladly & without much doubt. Sometimes someone is born with a nobility of character that belies their lowly birth. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the details of Janeway's life, I'm using Mosaic by Jerri Taylor as a basis - only for the facts and names, though.  
> last sentence of the journal from GJ


	6. Chapter 6

How could Neelix betray her like that? Since the Talaxian had asked her if he and Kes could remain on board Voyager, Janeway had found him often irritating, sometimes funny, but always truthful. And for a map, in a few hours, he had betrayed her confidence in him. However, as she castigated him and told him how disappointed she was, she was aware of a little voice in her head that was telling her that maybe, just maybe, she was the pot calling the kettle black. The first duty of a Star Trek officer is the truth, she had told Neelix. Hadn’t she been lying for several weeks herself? Of course, the person she had been lying to was a holodeck character, but was it really different?

That evening, sleep eluded Janeway– her mind was working furiously. For weeks now, she had had a standing appointment in holodeck 2 whenever she had had a little spare time. Good thing that she had usually too much to do to spend her holodeck time credits. For one or two hours, she escaped in another place, another century, and everything was right in the world. However, when she was alone in her quarters and had time to think, she despised what she had become – a liar. Toying with the emotions of another human being. She enjoyed every minute spent with Miss Lister of Shibden Hall. Even when they had spats, which happened quite often, because they both had strong opinions… and tempers. They had taken long walks in the dales, they had visited neighbours, they had been to York several times, and… spent many nights together. Never had Janeway felt so cherished and so protected. As she was the one doing the protecting on Voyager, it was a long-forgotten and welcome sensation. She had told Neelix his lies would have consequences, sentenced him to scrubbing the exhaust manifolds… Well, her behaviour had consequences, too. She had let herself become intimate with a holo-character – she had indulged in the idea she could fall in love with Anne – maybe she had. And Miss Lister herself certainly had. The last time Janeway had gone to the holodeck, they had met in Anne Lister’s chaumière, a small house nestled in a nearby wood, where a fire had been burning in the hearth and love had wrapped around their hearts. But commitment had loitered in the air, hung around like a threat to their happiness…

After they had had some fruit and cheese, Anne had stocked up the fire. Janeway had been reclined lazily on the sofa, watching her lover, nearly falling asleep, when Anne had knelt suddenly before her, a small box in her hands. Almost against her will, she had accepted the box and listened to the words she didn’t want to hear: “Kathryn – we have not known each other long, but I believe we could live together happily and commit to each other. Will you accept this ring and agree to take the sacrament with me, to solemnize our union before God, and to bind yourself to me?”

Kathryn had gasped – this should not have happened. Her reaction, coming from the dread that had crept in her heart, had been swift: “Computer, end program!”

And now, alone in her quarters, she just didn’t know what to do. She found the idea of doing nothing – of not returning to the program, of leaving Anne without an answer - abhorrent, even though her rational mind told her it had all been a fantasy. A fantasy with real emotions. A fantasy with feelings. With love. She had let herself been led astray, she had fallen down the rabbit hole, and now, everything was tumbling on top of her. Regrets. Guilt. Sadness. The weight of responsibility. The end of the dream. Knowing she would never find sleep, she got up, wrapped herself in her robe and went to the replicator, to which she issued a few commands. Armed with a sheet of paper, a quill and a bottle of blue ink, she went to her desk and started to write.

_3rd of January, 1832_

_Letter from K. arrived this morning. Have felt wretched ever since its arrival. “My dearest Anne, I can’t imagine this letter will not cause you pain, and yet I have to send it. I cannot accept your offer, but please, please believe me when I say it has nothing to do with you. I love you, Anne, as much as I can love anyone in my position. I know you will not understand my decision, but there are some things I cannot explain. I hope you will find happiness with someone else – you deserve it. I noticed that the last time we went to visit the Misses Walker, the younger one did not seem immune to your charms. Maybe she could be a suitable companion? I apologise for the distress I have caused you – I never meant to mislead you, never meant to cause you any harm. I hope you will forgive me. You will remain forever in my thoughts. With all my love, Kathryn._

_Should have known she would never stay with me, when she did not accept my proposal. Once again I have been deluded & my affections rejected. My spirits very low tonight, for I begin to fear I shall end up alone. And yet some smidgen of hope lies at the bottom of my heart & maybe, just maybe, I will rise again._

Janeway stood at her porthole and stared at the stars. The guilt she felt surely was punishment enough for her involuntary deceit. She remembered a line by one of her favourite poets: “ 'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all”. Was he right? Maybe. She just knew that tonight, she was hurting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for this ending - really; I wanted a "happily ever after" but my Vulcan side wanted a logical one. so ... I'm sorry! Hope you enjoyed the story.


End file.
